Survival Test
by Pat Foley
Summary: In his final year at Starfleet Academy, Spock's monitoring of a survival test threatens his future in Fleet. Complete


**Survival Test**

By

Pat Foley

 _Thus shall you go to the stars - Virgil_

The wind howled over the treeless plain, sounding like a demented ogre, blowing snow and ice crystals up from the covered ground. There was little shelter, and less food. But that was, after all, the purpose of a survival exercise. As such locations went, it could have been worse. Though it would be hard to say if the second year cadets being tested agreed.

Survival exercises no longer bothered Spock. Though remembering his initial anxieties before his Kahs Wan, he could not fail to understand similar concerns in his Starfleet class-mates.

Now in his fourth year at the Academy, this time it wasn't him undergoing the trial. He was merely one of the senior cadet monitors. And he had, after all, been taking such tests all his life. His first official trial, of course had been his Kahs Wan at five years of age. But there had been other unofficial trials, of birth, of mastery of Vulcan attributes, of academia and Vulcan disciplines. His affinity for the Forge had placed him in survival situations often, attacked by predators, or dealing with other adverse conditions. His divided heritage had also caused animosity among his peers on Vulcan. More than a few altercations there, if not exactly threatening his survival, had required him to fight for his acceptance.

Then he had survived confronting his father over his enrollment in Starfleet Academy. Then his first year at the Academy, including the hazing of new cadets. And there had been struggles for his acceptance in Fleet. Most cadets were neutral to him upon his arrival in that human dominated organization. But some had taken offense at his perceived encroachment. And then in his second year, his own survival test. His had involved pouring rain in a leech-filled swamp, rather than a snow swept tundra, but every test was different. And he'd been fortunate in that unlike most of his classmates, the leeches had not been interested in his blood.

So he was well familiar with survival trials. He had been childishly anxious and concerned about the prospect of failure for his first Kahs Wan trial, knowing the stakes of acceptance, not just of Vulcan, but with his own father. Before his trial, Sarek had told him he must succeed on the first try or not be considered his son. Or Vulcan.

After one's own father had told one that death of his son was more preferable to him than the failure of that five year old son to succeed in an archaic trial, nothing else of a survival test nature could ever really compare. If not sanguine about survival trials since, he was – well, the best Terran word was perhaps fatalistic about them. He would survive or he would not. But he would never agonize over the prospect of failure as he had at five. And he had become rather jaundiced as to the validity of such tests. But again, this upcoming test was not his survival trial.

Though one of the issues of becoming an officer was that, even though it was no longer his own survival at risk, now he was in the mentor's role.

Sarek's role? Was he to urge his fellow cadets to risk death rather than defeat? He had not really agreed with Sarek's attitude. He couldn't conceive coming all the way to Starfleet to emulate him in that.

He tried not to dwell on that. But the fact was, others would now be impacted by his decisions as a monitor. He could not merely stand back from human trials as a spectator, and watch them struggle. This was not one of their games of sport. As a senior at the Academy, he had lost some of his objectivity, not over his own survival, not even of others, for Starfleet cadets were monitored. He was to be one of their judges. Care would be taken not to let them perish on their survival tests. But evaluating cadets for failure on the second year mandatory survival test, making decisions on whether a cadet needed to be pulled from the field, was now one of his responsibilities. Shared with others, but in some cases, his. Their chance for success or failure could be in his hands.

He didn't much care for the responsibility, realizing now that he had some lingering issues of his own over requiring another to pass or fail such a test, as Sarek had required him, with acceptance and future endeavors riding on the result of that test. And now on his evaluation.

But he had come to understand like his own second year survival test, his monitoring of the sophomores now in his senior year was something of a command trial for him. A different sort of survival test. He wasn't entirely sure as a Vulcan, he either understood or was qualified to make such a judgment for humans. But his superiors weren't asking his opinion on that.

But he consoled himself that by the end of second year, most cadets were relatively seasoned, had been through two years of Academy, probably some hazing, and two years of hand to hand classes. Surely a mere survival test would be, as humans say, a snap for them.

After all, his own second year survival test had been relatively uneventful. Though it had been largely designed to test humans. And as a Vulcan, he could go with less rest, less food, significantly less water than any human. His metabolism wasn't designed to handle cold and damp as a human's was, but then, he also had disciplines that enabled him to withstand discomfort more, and also to adjust his metabolism. And his own survival conditions had not involved snow, though it had rained incessantly.

Dealing with snow this time, as a fourth year monitor, he rather considered he preferred it to rain. And he was heartened that, as he expected, most of the cadets were managing the test well.

Most but unfortunately, not all.

Attracted by a fallen cadet, Spock flew in on jetpack and hung, waiting, using his tricorder to read and evaluate the student's vitals, and considering whether to take action. Another second year cadet had come up to the fallen one, and was talking to him.

An icy wind ruffled the fur edging Spock's hood and snow crystals blowing into his eyes made him blink, but he could hear the exchange between the two cadets well enough.

"Please, I need food," the cadet whispered to the other. "Please. Food. Please."

"Hey, buck up," another voice said. One familiar to Spock. "This isn't Tarsis. You're on a Starfleet Academy field trip, remember? This is just a survival exercise. In a few days you'll be back at the Academy. Three squares a day."

"I can't do it."

The other voice replied, persuasive, encouraging.

Spock faded back, unwilling to interfere, willing to see if the other cadet's encouragement, the winning charm and charisma evident to him even second hand through a headset would bolster the flagging cadet.

Jose Tyler, also a fourth year Academy cadet and fellow monitor flew by Spock. "How's it going? Mine aren't doing too bad." He noticed the crumpled cadet. "Bad luck. Did you recall him?"

"He did not signal for pickup," Spock said.

Jose shrugged, listening to the exchange between Kirk and Riley. "He's begging, even without formally signaling. Sometimes they panic. You know. Forget their instructions."

"But he's not begging to a monitor. His conversation is with a fellow student in his group. And He's not in danger of demise," Spock said. "It's not a physical problem absolutely requiring pickup. He has not signaled."

"Who's that with him?" Tyler asked. "Kirk, isn't it?"

"Yes," Spock said shortly.

"Figures. Those Tarsis IV refugees stick together sometimes. But does he know he's talking to a fellow cadet and not to a monitor? Maybe he doesn't."

"It is not a crisis," Spock said. "Yet."

"Well," Tyler temporized, "You're senior cadet and he's one of your group. If you want to see if he rallies, it's your call."

"I do."

"It might be **your** neck, you know," Tyler said, pausing before jetting away.

"I'm aware of that," Spock said. "It is my responsibility." He looked gravely out at the pair of cadets, one still hovering encouraging over the other, before he withdrew, keeping the cadet's vitals flagged on his monitoring tricorder.

Pulling back, he checked the other three dozen cadets that were his responsibility and found none really troubling. As survival exercises go, this really wasn't a severe trial. Every cadet had been in good health before being sent out into the field. They were, after all, considered adults by human standards, not five year old children. And they had been issued standard Starfleet survival gear, which in this weather included a heavy winter weight parka, and some basic gear. Starvation wasn't really an issue, though cadets would certainly experience hunger. Even water, a much more pressing issue for humans, was not an issue this survival test. Surface water existed in lakes and streams, and plenty of frozen water was falling from the sky and piled up on the ground in drifts, though much of the ground was scoured bare by the wind. Hypothermia was more of an issue, but there was vegetation that could burn, with a little effort. It wasn't as if the cadets had been dropped naked in the frozen tundra without even a knife.

But the cadet in trouble weighed on Spock's conscience. Kirk's attempts to aide him weren't a problem. It wasn't forbidden for cadets to use teamwork to make it through the test, though Kirk's assistance was something of an issue, given the cadet being helped wasn't contributing anything to his own survival. But if he didn't rally soon, Spock knew he would have to pull him, regardless of whether he was in imminent danger.

He thought back to Vulcan, to Sarek standing over him, demanding that he complete his survival test on the first try. Or be forever regarded not a Vulcan nor his son.

He was back at the site, overlooking the pair, his fingers splayed on his tricorder, ready at the first flutter into marginal readings to use his monitor's authority to recall the cadet, when an instructor flew in beside him.

"What are you waiting for, Spock?" Robert April had been a fourth year cadet when Spock had been a plebe. He had been teaching at the Academy as an instructor for the past two years.

"He hasn't signaled for recall," Spock said, speaking freely. Unlike some of the others, April had always been a practical superior, not obsessed with rank or unwilling to engage in dialogue with subordinates.

"But he hasn't been moving. Sometimes they don't signal, you know."

"He's not yet in any physical danger that would preclude his requesting pickup. His issues appear to be emotional."

"Well, that's part of what we're testing for too. If he's lost it completely-" April shrugged.

"But should his physical condition actually become an issue, that may in fact spur Mr. Riley to recognize the need for action."

"You think he could then rally past his psychological problems and turn around?" April asked, frowning. "Sure, it happens. But it hasn't, so far. And he's interfering with Kirk's test."

"That's Cadet Kirk's own choice."

"Not entirely."

"Based on his readings, Mr. Riley yet has the strength to succeed. If he wills it. And given he has not signaled for pickup and is not in any real danger yet, I believe he deserves the opportunity to signal the end of his own test, or failing that to rally. Until his condition becomes an issue requiring he be pulled."

"You may be right," April said, shaking his head "But I'm no medical consult. That's over my pay grade. Look at it this way - if the shrinks agree and give him that chance, he can try again. This failure is not an automatic expulsion."

Spock flicked a skeptical brow at that.

"I know. It's pretty darn close. Still I'm going to fail him. My authority." He flew over to the two Tarsis IV refugees.

"Yes, sir," Spock said. He watched as April landed by Kirk, and after the latter's attempt at a protest, remonstrated with him and then gave him a clear order. Spock could see the disappointment on Kirk's mobile face before he acknowledged it. In a moment, April and the unfortunate cadet had been transported away.

But that wasn't the end of it for Spock. The exercise was over. He'd returned to campus, to the dubious but improved warmth of San Francisco – it was pouring there, so for Spock there was little difference in discomfort - when he received a message to report to the Senior Dean's office. He sighed a little, cleaned himself up from days spent in the field sans sanitary facilities and dressed in a fresh uniform before reporting.

The Senior Dean had never been a fan of Spock's attendance at the Academy, though he had never been too obviously opposed either. Spock didn't know if he was prejudiced against aliens, against those with political connections, or simply at any special cases as perhaps not worthy of being indulged. For that reason, Spock had tried to keep away from him.

"Yes, sir?" Spock said when the Dean's secretary let him into the office with a commiserating look that told Spock he was in for it.

"You were a monitor on the second year students' survival exercise," the dean said.

"Yes, sir."

" **Senior** monitor."

"Yes, sir."

"Yet you failed to down check and recall an obviously non-performing student? Even though that was your duty?"

"I was monitoring his progress, sir. He had not signaled for recall."

"Apparently because he couldn't. He was incoherent when recalled. Begging for food."

"But he was not in actual physical distress," Spock argued. "This was a survival test. And his survival was not yet in question."

"And he had another cadet covering for him. Which you allowed."

Spock raised a brow. "Cadets are permitted, even encouraged, to work together during this exercise."

"You have a strange notion of working together, Cadet Spock. There's a difference between that and a cadet covering for an obviously non-performing cadet."

"Cadet Kirk's vitals were good, sir. He was not discommoded by the effort. Cadet Riley was also not in immediate physical danger. I was monitoring the situation. I considered that Cadet Riley might benefit from Cadet Kirk's encouragement. Or his own physical condition might spur him to action."

"Go from incoherence to action?"

"It has been known to happen," Spock argued.

"It hardly makes for officer material. Nor is failing to use proper command judgment on evaluating such behavior conducive to officer material on your part."

Spock put his hands behind his back, straightening under this obvious censure. "I will concede I am still learning the parameters of human behavior."

"Not much to learn when someone has collapsed." Fleishman sat back. "You failed to perform your duty as monitor. You required an instructor to take action on your behalf. Regardless of the reason, that's a failure, in my opinion, as great or greater than Riley's."

Spock raised a brow, but didn't comment. For a moment, it was as if he were standing before Sarek, the same condemnation sans understanding. He blinked and forced himself out of that eidetic memory back to the present.

"You will serve double duty on weekends as punishment, starting now until the end of term."

"Aye, sir." Spock took that with equanimity, relieved. That was no more than a slight nuisance.

"And this incident will be noted in your record."

"Yes, sir," Spock said, both brows rising now. That outcome was serious.

"The sophomore survival test doesn't just disqualify those who take it," Fleishman said, with a certain relish. "It can disqualify seniors too."

Spock looked at him, understanding the… warning? Threat?

"Dismissed. You'll start your double duty immediately. As in now."

Spock went out, the breath going out of him at this double blow. Triple, really. No chance to even grab a meal between the survival trial and this duty. But it was the promise of a notation in his record that was truly alarming.

So far, in spite of the many pitfalls and traps inherent in his ignorance of human culture, he'd kept his record clean. A reprimand on his record would not affect his graduating, perhaps, but it could impact his assignment upon graduation. Starfleet had many posts, but only twelve Constellation Class starships. The competition for those postings by new graduates was fierce. With a black mark on his record, his ability to secure a starship posting could, perhaps would, be forever compromised. He pondered that, while he headed for his duty post.

It had been a survival test, indeed. And one, that after so many successes, he appeared to have failed.

He hadn't expected that, wasn't prepared for it. And given that, it was a blow. One that he found himself more than a little heartsick about. It taxed his Vulcan control more than he expected given all his mastery of the Disciplines. After nearly four years of living on his own in an alien society he had apparently made a near fatal error. It was not at all what he had expected of himself.

It appeared this had been a survival trial for him more than he had expected.

The duty weekend was slow. The student body was largely absent, due to the Thanksgiving holiday. In a society where motivations were supposed to always be logically based, Vulcans might consider the need for gratitude superfluous, if not outright illogical. But Spock didn't object to the holiday based merely on that. To him, most holidays on Terra seemed emotionally based. And of all the sentiments, appreciation or gratitude might be considered more laudable than many others.

But he observed that in practice, from those Starfleet officers and cadets still on duty, or who hadn't left campus, gratitude seemed little in evidence. Complaints were rampant over closed buildings deemed necessary to conserve energy. Dire predictions were traded over the traditional meal not being up to the required feast. There were dark rumblings that turkey shaped meatloaf might be served in the students' commissary, rather than real turkeys. This seemed somewhat contrary to the purported notion of gratitude for the feast, however it was composed.

But Spock didn't spend too much time concerning himself with a holiday feast whose main course of animal flesh – even if reconstituted – he would not be eating anyway. He fulfilled his duty, resigned himself to losing every weekend to punishment detail, and he pondered on his mistake in the field that might severely impact his future career. After all his efforts, four years of dealing with this alien environment, had he just consigned himself, not to the starship he had aimed for, but for some small scientific vessel, far outside of the starship and Starfleet command experience he had been training for? What would T'Pau say to this failure? What would Sarek? Had he just proven his father right and himself wrong?

He slogged through his classes and assignments, but the light had gone out of his eyes.

The punishment docket was a public one. And the grapevine at the Academy spread news at warp speed. The first holiday weekend, his name on it passed without much notice. But after that, in spite of the crushing push towards pending finals, Spock's name on the docket every weekend and the reason listed, spread from class to workout session, from study groups to drill locker rooms.

In spite of his deliberate attempts to fly under the radar, to not flaunt his differences, Spock was known at the Academy. Most cadets had some sort of opinion on his apparent disastrous fall. While there were those that were indifferent, and those that believed it was long past due, there were others that considered it the opposite. There was wide spread muttering, some arguments and even an altercation or two. All four classes had some sort of opinion. Spock had held an open tutoring session weekly in physics and computer sciences since his freshman year. Not so much by design or intention, as much as that being a creature of habit, he frequented a particular carrel in the library at regular times. Those of his class in dire straits in the hard sciences had almost inevitably come to solicit him there to render them assistance. This had started in his first semester. Every subsequent semester, more had come along. By his senior year more than half of each upcoming class had taken advantage of his impromptu tutoring at one time or another. Realizing humans did not have eidetic memories, Spock had come to the necessity of preparing fiche summaries or study guides, to save him from the repetitive verbalization to every cadet in need of relevant points. These were circulated among all the classes. Even those who were opposed to a Vulcan in Starfleet on principal ended up reading the documents. They circulated them among themselves, enjoying the excellent presentations even as some criticized the Vulcan in their private cliques, necessity proving untrammeled by the hypocrisy of reading a product from a person they purported to deplore. So whether from proponents, critics or neutrals among his contemporaries, Spock's attempts to remain unremarked among the student body had always been of limited success.

During the first holiday week, no one particularly noticed the Vulcan's name on the punishment docket. But by the second week everyone was aware and the reason why, and by the third, conversation and debate about the Vulcan had reached a level unheard of among the student body even compared to when Spock had nearly singlehandedly stopped the practice of hazing, at least for his dorm-mates, in his freshman year. Then that he was Vulcan had inhibited much talk. By now, Spock's presence was enough of a given that no one particularly cared to be inhibited. To each other, if not to him.

Those opposed to aliens in Fleet came out in force with their complaints. Initially, Vulcans had been perceived to be weak, because they were pacifists, or supposed to be. At least they talked the talk. But Spock's great strength and proficiency in hand to hand had silenced commentary there. And his unwillingness to use that strength to bully or lord it over other cadets had garnered him appreciation from some humans. But resentment as well from others, whose strength was overshadowed by Vulcan abilities, and who found scant respect for lording tendencies of their own, being unfavorably compared to Spock's modest acceptance of his own.

"It's time the Vulcan got dumped," talk ranged among the Spock detractors. "We don't need aliens on our Starships. Let them crew their own."

"He ruins the grading curve in classes."

"It's unfair to pit him against humans in hand to hand."

"Their culture isn't human. I've heard rumors—" Voices lowered further to discuss rumors of Vulcan mating practices and their treatment of women.

"Pacifists can't fight, however he handles himself in hand to hand. And they can't make decisions. He's proven it."

And came the counter arguments from other cadets. "Do you think space is only going to be full of humans? What is a United Federation for? You read his course outlines, don't you? You crib from them. What do you think alien means, just humans dressed up in pointed ears? So what if their culture is different; or their biology, they aren't requiring that you live by it. They've kept the Roms behind their part of the Neutral Zone, so they clearly can fight you!"

The talk rumbled back and forth. Many who'd tolerated the Vulcan before, confident he would eventually wash out and leave, realized it had been some years. And yet here Spock was, still around, still knocking humans out in hand to hand, acing his finals, - distributing his tutoring and course outlines to cadets, some of whom opposed him, but couldn't make their courses without him. It was just too hard for even Spock's detractors to resist the clear Vulcan expositions of difficultpoints even though their opinion of his place in Fleet was unchanged.

It had appeared that in spite of all predictions, the alien was about to succeed to the bridge of one of Starfleet's prized Constellation class starships. For those in the cliques who'd opposed him, this rankled. They were relieved that now, finally, someone in authority had realized the danger, however late, and acted to put the Vulcan in his place. For others, the action was incomprehensible. And the injustice rankled.

And so the debates continued.

But because Spock had never been part of the give and take of small talk among his classmates, whatever aid he might provide in tutoring, he was relatively unaware that he was the subject of rabid discussions. He went through his classes and tutoring sessions with a faint line of puzzlement between his brows, well aware of the change in others' regard of him, hearing some of the whispers, but uncertain of how to react. Nor quite understanding how his calculations and plans had failed him so resoundedly and so late in his incipient Starfleet career. But he didn't speak of his punishment to others. And none ventured to break through his reserve to discuss it openly with him.

Serving another double duty punishment weekend, his third, he was going over his evaluation of the situation for perhaps the dozenth time, when a familiar figure came through Command HQ where Spock was pulling his punishment detail, monitoring Fleet exercises for summary to Command.

Captain Christopher Pike was supervising the refit of the Starship Enterprise, teaching where his time allowed, and taking short cruises to test equipment and make recommendations before the Enterprise warped away on its next five year mission, where it would then be far out of range of convenient repair yards and space docks. At one point, Spock had considered that he would be a member of that crew, in his final semester internship, given he had become something of a protégé of Captain Pike. But now he considered that coveted and long worked for assignment might be in jeopardy. Indeed Pike's first words were in reference to that.

"I hear you're on the punishment docket. High living again?" Pike asked. The words were light, but Pike looked grave.

Spock was unamused. "Apparently, I have made a serious error, Captain."

"So I hear. Involving Kirk again. Seems he's unappreciative of what you did for him."

"He knows nothing of it," Spock said, with a baleful look.

"Wasn't sure if he remembered anything. Or if you might have shared a confidence. Or perhaps some strategy," Pike said, curious, fishing.

"I have never spoken with him," Spock said indifferently.

"Well, whatever benefits you conferred on him," Pike said slowly, "it seems he's been no good luck charm for you - ending up with Riley on your monitoring list and both of them getting you in trouble."

"I am not a believer in luck, sir."

"Too bad, because you need some now. Kirk could have been reprimanded too. But he got off scot free. You took the sole rap, no mitigations. And you must know that a black mark on your record now is the worst possible timing, coming as it is just before assignments. Not much chance to expunge it with good works before decisions are made."

"I am aware of that," Spock said stolidly. "But any fault was based on my own analysis."

"I hear Riley has been pulled by the shrinks. He's not expelled – wouldn't be politic, given he was a Tarsis IV survivor. But he'll need their approval before he's cleared for readmission."

"I am pleased he has the chance. It would be doubly unfortunate otherwise. At least there is some possibility of a good outcome for Mr. Riley."

Pike set his mouth, shaking his head. "Spock. Survival tests do have a purpose."

"Your culture is not the only one who practices those rites," Spock said testily. "I **am** familiar with the purpose."

Pike blinked in surprise. "Vulcan has survival tests?"

"Affirmative." When Pike sat back, clearly waiting for elucidation, Spock sighed. "At five years of age, I underwent a ten day survival test on the Forge – in the wilds near my home," he clarified, realizing the reference would mean little to the other.

"So….you called for help?" Pike asked, frowning as if trying to understand Spock's motivation. "Or you couldn't call?"

"Others could," Spock admitted. "But not in my family. My father informed me I had to pass the survival trial on the first try. Or not be his son."

Pike whistled. "Harsh. Especially given the line Vulcan hands the Federation Council about being logical pacifists."

"It is not a 'line'," Spock flared. "Our culture is built on that philosophy."

"Not much of logic or peace in sending five year olds to potential death."

Spock straightened uncomfortably. "Perhaps I should have said modern post Reform Vulcan culture. But there are pre-Reform remnants of our culture that remain, for various reasons."

"Logical reasons?" Pike queried skeptically, then relented at Spock's obvious discomfort. "Still, you are here, so you must have survived. And presumably passed."

"Affirmative," Spock said stiffly. "To both."

"But you resented the trial?" Pike fished. "The conditions? Never tried it again?"

Spock raised a brow at this, looking surprised. "On the contrary. I very much valued and appreciated my Forge experiences. More than anywhere else on Vulcan, the Llangon Mountains became my home. I was in the mountains, in the wild, as much there as at my parents' home. By choice."

Pike shook his head. "Well, then I don't understand."

"Nor do I understand the Academy in this issue," Spock said, vexed. "Regardless of any legacy from my mother's heritage, I was well suited to my survival training. But it seems unfair to task the Tarsis refugees with hunger so soon after their rescue."

"Everyone has to take the same tests, Spock," Pike said with patient remonstrance.

"Hunger is a different trial for them than the average cadet," Spock argued with Vulcan stubbornness.

"They've been out two years."

Spock tilted his head again. "For humans, that appears to be not long enough."

"You come from a desert world. Your survival test at the Academy, if I remember correctly, included conditions adverse to **your** abilities. Still you got through it."

Spock refused to be drawn. "As a Vulcan, I have methods of compensating that Mr. Riley apparently does not."

"Kirk coped."

"You yourself consider Kirk exceptional."

"The **potential** for exceptionalism. As you have. But there's a long way between potential and performance. Would you want to serve on a starship, Spock, with someone who fell apart at a little adversity in a critical situation?"

Spock sighed, just a little. "Negative, sir."

"Then you acknowledge the validity of the test."

"Not quite," Spock said, still stubborn. "This was not a starship."

"It was meant to be considered as such for the subject. And for the monitor."

"I thought," Spock said pointedly, "that it was a training, a learning, exercise."

"It was both. And not just the plebes were on trial. Part of **your** duty, your command training, was to make evaluations. And according to someone in charge, you failed in that duty."

"I am aware that someone regards Mr. Riley's efforts as such."

"What do you regard it as?"

Spock tilted his head in a Vulcan shrug. "Mr. Riley was overtaxed, even by human standards. But not all failures constitute an ultimate defeat."

"So you do plan to take the attitude to the bridge of a starship?"

Spock frowned to the extent of a deeper line appearing between his narrowed brows. "I fail to understand. Part of the testing function of this school is to reveal areas where additional training is required. And then provide it."

"For you or for Riley? Did you both have a crisis of nerve?"

Spock tilted his head again, overly patient at this criticism, and even somewhat bored with it. "I freely admit my evaluation of humans' abilities is lacking in many respects. I am still gathering data and learning. But whatever punishment is accorded to me, or adverse repercussions, I appear to not be facing potential expulsion as I understand Riley may be. And I wonder that he deserves such an outcome given his past history."

"It could be a significant problem for him going forward, if he lets it affect him. _'Audaces fortuna iuvat'_." 1

"' _Felix qui non habuit animi valet causae, quave ratione res omnes terrores et proterunt_ _'_ ," Spock retorted without a beat. 2

"So you know your Virgil. You never fail to surprise me, Spock. You think Riley is up to that?"

"He wishes to try to join Starfleet. He has, I believe, no other family. He did not signal for pickup, meaning however taxed, he had not given in. I think it would be beneficial to allow him the chance to address this issue, and try again."

"As your father wasn't about to give you that chance on Vulcan. Is that where is this coming from?"

Spock raised his head at that challenge. "Humanity may have a superior philosophy over the Vulcan way, in that regard at least. And so some seem to conclude given Mr. Riley is not yet expelled. If human philosophy does not entirely apply to me, it should at least work for Mr. Riley."

"You seem awfully concerned with Riley."

Spock's countenance darkened. "He was my responsibility. His failure is thus mine, in some respects."

"And in a way, yours is mine," Pike pointed out. "Given I've made you a rather public protégé of mine. You do realize what a black mark on your record can mean? In failing to pull him, you may have forfeited your own chance for starship command. I may not be able to offer you that chance."

"Should it come to that," Spock said. "I will have some regret. Certainly if it is so, then I made a greater error before the survival test."

"What do you mean?"

"Trusting to a Starfleet so lacking in minimal understanding of the purpose of education. My father's opinion of Starfleet may be proven correct," Spock added with testy dissatisfaction.

"I thought he was the stickler for survival tests?"

"Regardless, I don't regret my actions."

"All right," Pike said grudgingly. "That's quite a gauntlet you've thrown, comparing Fleet unfavorably to Sarek of Vulcan."

"I did not mean –"

"Never mind. I'm teasing you. I'll see what I can do to appeal the disciplinary action." Seeing Spock draw breath, he added. "I was going to anyway. But I wanted to hear from you first."

"Captain, I would rather you didn't-"

"You'll do what you're told and not argue with your superior officer. That's an order."

Spock deflated. "Yes, sir."

"Only a few months left and you spoil a near perfect record. Robbing me of what could be the best Science Officer in the Fleet. That's not what I expect of you, Spock."

"Yes, sir."

"Just try and stay out of trouble until the hearing."

"I will do so, sir."

Pike harrumphed and left Spock at his duty post.

xxx

The Disciplinary Board met weekly. But that frequency did not engender complacency on the part of the board members. They looked discontented at being called to deal with infractions and their culprits. To Spock, that did not bode well.

The infractions went in order of lesser rank, so that plebe misdemeanors – repeated intoxications, altercations that had gone beyond regular discipline, or cheating went first. Spock had never attended before. Listening to those preceding him, he grew grave at being included in this motley crew. He considered that he would rather have taken the black mark on his record than be so associated.

Then he saw Robert April appear in the doorway of the hearing. The young officer nodded briefly to Spock and then took a seat. Pike came in not long after. Then student after student began to file in. Each time the hearing officer asked, they gave Case 401 the reason for attendance. Eventually the hall was filled, and no more were admitted. Outside a discontented murmur came from those denied entrance, until an M.P. threatened the gathering crowd with repercussions. Then they moved on down the hall, but Spock could hear they had not fully dispersed. Spock could hear his name mentioned. He straightened in his seat, abashed at this public spectacle. He did not wish to attract undue notice under any conditions, but this was definitely not a preferred reason.

Spock stared at the cadets filling the hall. Why had they come? To see him disgraced? For once, he couldn't read human expressions. They seemed as blank to him as Vulcans. Or perhaps, after his supposed failure with Riley, he didn't trust himself to evaluate the situation properly. He saw cadets known to him in the crowd, but their faces were grave, and those who did nod to him, did so perfunctorily. He grew even more uneasy and reluctant to be in this situation.

Perhaps Sarek had been right. He was not unfamiliar with Vulcan trials, but at least then, he had understood the reason for them and his place in them. Here his unfamiliarity gnawed at him.

"Case 401," the bored voice of the administrative clerk, Mario Sigelli, finally intoned after all the lesser infractions had been adjudicated. "Cadet Spock. Disregarding orders, dereliction of duty, endangering the welfare of his fellow cadets. Sentenced to extra duty, in the process of being served, and notation on record."

"Seems like a serious charge," Landom, the senior court officer remarked, "And a relatively minor punishment for all that. Is the superior officer recommending further review and action?" He frowned, looking down at the fiche before him. "I don't see the field commander's report here. That would be-"

"Robert April, sir," April stood. "I was the field commander of record, sir."

Landom frowned at the clerk of the court, shifting through the documents before him. "Can't you get your paperwork in order, Sigelli? Where is Mr. April's complaint for the court record?"

"I don't have it, sir," the unfortunate Sigelli stated.

"How can that be?" Landom thundered. "We can't try a case without documents! Mr. April, can you supply a copy of your charge to my delinquent court officer?"

"I can't sir.

"And why is that? You are required to do so." Landom leaned forward to peer down at him.

"I can't, sir, because I filed no complaint," April said simply.

"You didn't?" Landom said, rearing back.

"I did not," April said calmly.

"Well, that's irregular," Landom said. "Why not?"

"I saw nothing on which to file a report, sir," April said.

"You didn't? Well, how did Mr. -" Landom shuffled fiche, "Mr. Spock here end up being so charged?"

"I don't know, sir."

"You don't know. Sigelli, do you mind telling me whose name is on the charging documents?"

"There's no name, sir."

"How can there be no name?!"

"I don't know, sir."

"Nobody seems to know a damn thing about this case! April, do you mind explaining to me the circumstances that resulted in your subordinate being charged?"

"I can try, sir."

"Please do so now. I am mystified."

"Sir, I was monitoring conditions on the survival trial, sir. One cadet, Mr. Riley, hadn't moved for a while. He'd attracted the attention of a second cadet in the trial. I flew over to review the situation. Mr. Spock, as senior cadet monitoring the exercise, was also there and had been evaluating the situation. We had a discussion. Cadet Spock pointed out that the cadet wasn't in serious physical distress and had not in fact signaled for rescue. He had been giving the cadet time to rally, particularly given the cadet was being encouraged by a second student. During our discussion, I made the decision to pull him, sir. It was a question as to timing and how long to give Riley, not of dereliction of duty on Cadet Spock's part. We were both there on scene, and both agreeing the cadet was in danger of non-performance. It was simply choosing how long to give the cadet a chance to perhaps perform."

"Cadet Spock, do you agree with that assessment?" Landom asked.

Spock rose. "Affirmative, sir."

"And you thought this cadet-"

"It was Cadet Riley, sir."

"Might come around?"

"I thought in as much as he was not in serious physical distress yet, that he might do so, sir."

"Did you argue with Mr. April after he made his decision to pull him?" Landom questioned, beetling his white brows. "He was your senior officer. Were you insubordinate? Is Mr. April covering for you?"

"No, sir."

"Mr. April?" Landom asked.

"There was no argument, sir."

"Was Mr. Riley found to be in severe physical distress? Was Mr. Spock derelict in not pulling him sooner? No, don't answer that. You don't have the qualifications to make that judgment. Sigelli, what does the medical report say?"

"Mr. Riley's physical condition on recall was found to be satisfactory," Sigelli reported.

"So it was emotional distress."

"Mr. Riley is a survivor of Tarsis IV, sir," Spock said.

"Mr. Riley's record indicates he is suffering from post traumatic stress, sir," Sigelli reported. "The hunger part of the trial triggered it. He is being accorded treatment for that condition. If that succeeds, he will be offered the chance to repeat the course."

"Then what the hell are we doing here, gentlemen?" Landom asked, putting his hands flat on the desk and sitting back. "It sounds like everyone involved did their duty as they understood it. I fail to see why Mr. Spock was cited."

"I can't answer that, sir." April said.

"Who was the reporting officer who cited him? Kaine, you're Sophomore Dean. Did you sign it?"

"No, sir," Kaine said, giving Spock a wary glance. Leery of politician repercussions from the well connected cadet, he'd been glad to be shed of him once the Vulcan cadet had passed his plebe year.

"Dean Fleishman, you signed the punishment order on Spock. Who filed the actual complaint?"

"No one, sir."

"No one filed a complaint. Yet you cited the cadet for dereliction of duty?"

"I saw from the reports that Mr. April had to do Cadet Spock's job," Fleishman said. "That appeared to be dereliction to me."

Landom sat back. "So now we are getting somewhere. Well. Did you speak to Mr. April, the acting field officer before taking this action?"

"No, sir."

"Did you speak to Mr. Spock? Mr. Riley? Anyone directly connected to the incident?"

"I relied upon the facts of the report. Mr. April, rather than Cadet Spock, pulling Mr. Riley."

Landom scratched his head. "Well, I'm afraid I don't understand this. This is a cadet-" Landom was now paging through the records that Sigelli was now laying before his desk with all the hush and reverence of an altar boy serving mass, "without a black mark on his record, science and command track, honors throughout. And yet without an officer's complaint, you decided to cite a cadet officer for dereliction of duty based upon no evidence other than another senior officer pulling a cadet off the survival test?"

"That was Mr. Spock's job."

"You do realize these are field conditions, Fleishman?" Landom asked with heavy irony. "Hundreds of cadets on survival testing, multiple officers surveying them, and senior officers backing them up. It's not unusual for two officers to have a consensus meeting in the field over pulling a cadet – that is a serious action and one we don't take lightly – and for the senior to make a command decision and sign it, with the junior deferring? That is occasionally the way we run things in the Fleet," he added.

"I didn't see it that way, sir."

"Obviously not." Landom shook his head. "Cadet Spock."

Spock rose. "Yes, sir."

"Were you unable to make a command decision on Cadet Riley?"

"No, sir. If his condition deteriorated, I would have pulled him."

"Do you consider Mr. April was wrong to pull him when he did?"

"No, sir. Mr. April is senior to me, and more experienced. I considered his judgment superior."

"But he failed Mr. Riley. You were hoping he would pass, is that not so?

"I considered that he might."

"You wanted a 100% success rate on your watch, is that it? You didn't want a single defeat to mar your record or that of your supervisees?"

Spock raised a brow. "I did not even consider that."

"No?"

"No, sir. Such a failure is not necessarily a defeat, sir. In a learning situation, it can be considered an experience, by which, with proper mentoring, Mr. Riley might benefit. I trust that he will have other opportunities to succeed. Whether under my review or another's makes little difference. The purpose of these trials here at the Academy is that, if he is able, he learns how to succeed."

Landon cocked a brow. "Well, we might hope so. Captain Fleishman, given you have heard Cadet's Spock's evaluation, might you reevaluate your recommendation for censure?"

"I made a command decision, sir. I stand by it."

"Well, that is what we do here. But I can make command decisions as well. And in my judgment, I can't see dereliction of duty, disregarding orders or endangering the welfare of a fellow cadet in Cadet Spock's actions. Nor does the immediate officer in the field, Mr. April, find the cadet's actions worthy of citation. Nor does his record indicate that. Help me out here, Captain. I value your opinion, and I'd like to back you up. But I have to have something more to blacken Mr. Spock's record so close to assignments. Give me your reasoning why should I let this citation stand."

"I'm familiar with Cadet Spock's record. Yes, it is estimable in sciences. But his behavior as survival test monitor to me is characteristic of his potential command style. It is overly evaluative, relies too much on data, and is lacking in decision. I consider that a detriment to the Fleet."

"You're saying Starfleet doesn't value decisions made on data?" Landom asked, again with heavy irony.

"Not to the exclusion of other factors, such as time and common sense. Starfleet officers can't consider and ponder during an emergency situation."

"I don't disagree," Landom said, sitting back. "And you may have a point. But was this that sort of situation?"

"I believe it was."

"But you weren't on site. Neither Mr. April, nor Mr. Spock believes so. I'm not sure you've proven your point, given no other supervisor has indicated a problem."

"I'm aware the cadet has friends in high places," Fleishman said. "But political considerations shouldn't override facts."

Landom scowled visibly. "Careful, Captain. Are you accusing me of making my decision based on political favoritism?"

"No, sir."

"Good. Because I assure you this court relies on evidence. Nor do we rush to judgment, given **this** is not an emergency. Still, I can't find enough evidence to sanction your decision. Indeed at this point I can't find any evidence to support your claim. So I'm striking the citation. Mr. Spock."

Spock rose.

"I can't do anything about the double duty you pulled. Too bad about that, but injustice is sometimes a Fleet officer's lot. And hard duty is sometimes a good experience as well."

"Yes, sir."

"But I will award you an extra day of leave, to be taken at your choosing. The mark is removed from your record. You are dismissed without censure."

There was a muted rumble and near cheer in the court. Landom rapped his gavel. "There will be order in this court! We will recess for five minutes. Captain," Landom nodded to Fleishman, "I'll see you in my office."

The minute office of the court was little more than a cubby with a computer terminal, crowded even with just Sigelli, Landom and Fleishman, but Landom didn't waste time on absent amenities. "I'd like an explanation, Captain. Since when do you down check a cadet with no supervising officer's initial complaint?"

"It may be unusual, but so is Cadet Spock."

"Careful, Captain. If I was also prone to making snap judgments without evidence, I'd say you were prejudiced."

"I have closely observed Cadet Spock's Academy career to date. I don't believe he will be able to function in the limited society of a starship in deep space with his anti-social tendencies."

"Anti-social?"

"He doesn't socialize with his peers."

"Since when does introversion mean anti-social?"

"I'm not sure human labels apply to aliens, or that they can fit into a Starship crew."

"Sigelli, have you got the-" the clerk passed a sheaf of fiche to Landom. "I didn't bring this up in court, because it has no place in such proceedings. But I have a petition with no less than 80 names on it, cadets, instructors, and officers combined, protesting the censuring of this cadet."

"I find that hard to believe, sir. Cadet Spock has no friends."

"What do you call that mob filling the court? If I hadn't shut them down they would have—" there was a rumble suspiciously like a cheer outside in the hallway as the verdict was passed to the group waiting outside, just as quickly hushed.

"How do you account for that?" Landom asked.

"I know Cadet Spock never socializes with other cadets outside of the performance of his duty."

"He may not bar hop or chase tail. But he seems to have garnered a positive opinion when on duty. A plethora of virtues, according to this," Landom tapped the fiche. "Tutors the ignorant in physics and maths. Feeds the hungry, at least with his desserts and meat courses. Rescues the abused-"

"His retaliations against normal senior hazing-"

"You're not going to justify hazing, are you Captain?" Landom asked, gimlet eyed.

Fleishman, who'd been an enthusiastic hazer in his own senior year, declined to answer.

"They may not go out for a beer with him after duty hours," Landom admitted, "but he seems to have developed a favorable relationship with many of his fellow cadets in the course of his duties. So again, I have to ask, what's your problem with him?"

"I would have thought that would be obvious, sir."

Landom sighed. "I suppose as we educate the students, so we have to educate the teachers and the school. This is a new Starfleet, Captain. Reflecting a new Federation. We aren't just protecting the United Earth Colonies anymore but a larger Federation. That includes alien members. Including Vulcans. And they are to be full members, not just in the Federation but in the Starfleet that protects the Federation. It's a transition, Captain, that I hope you can make. Do you understand?"

"Affirmative, sir."

"I suggest you stay out of Cadet Spock's way for the immediate future." Landom looked grave. "If he were of a mind to it, he could conceivably file a complaint against you. And that one I might find evidence to support, given what I've heard today. Fortunately for you, and for Fleet, since we don't need that kind of black eye, he doesn't seem the vindictive type. But get yourself together, Captain, or Starfleet will be forced to find a new Dean."

"I'll be putting in for space duty, sir."

There was a thundering of feet outside in the courtyard, a roar and then a cheer.

"What the hell was that?" Landom asked, startled. "Sigelli, find out."

After a moment the clerk reappeared. "That crowd of cadets, sir. When they exited the building they responded to the verdict in Cadet Spock's case."

Landom shook his head "Probably just as well you have put in for space duty," Landom said. "Because you may have some socialization issues yourself, with Cadet Spock's contemporaries, given that. Very well, you're dismissed, Captain."

After Fleishman left, Landom opened the window onto the courtyard, and listened to the cheers and laughter of the cadets, freed now that they were outside of the building and insufficiently quashed by others striving to hush them. Someone began singing "For he's a jolly good fellow, while another group howled at the irony of doing so for a Vulcan devoid of obvious jollity. Landom half smiled and shook his head. And then closed his window.

xxx

Still reeling from the verdict, Spock came out of the court into the rowdy crowd. Such crowds confused him. Based on his own experience as an embassy brat, they reminded him of the uncontrolled press crushes that had hassled his mother. He had no idea what they expected of him, or what their actions would be and so they disconcerted him.

He regarded them with his usual grave Vulcan demeanor, hiding his unease, but this didn't discommode his well wishers, who slapped him on the back, congratulated him and assured him they had been rooting for him all along. Spock noted Garrison and Tyler in the crowd. Robert April shook his hand and commended him. Pike floated along the edge of the crowd, the students giving way to him.

"Remember what I told you about staying out of trouble, Cadet," Pike said. "And carry on." Nodding significantly to the others, he drifted away.

"We need to celebrate," Garrison said. "We need a drink."

"I don't-" Spock said.

"You can have fruit juice, Spock," Tyler said, "But we need to celebrate."

"Hell, yes," another cadet said, one Spock recognized as someone who had only passed astrophysics due to his concerted tutoring. "Give him a damn orchard of fruit juice."

Spock was borne along, recognizing when it was inevitable to give in to human exuberance. It seemed thanksgiving was not entirely regulated to one particular holiday. It could even apply to and toward Vulcans.

"I still think the pointed-ear freaks don't belong in Fleet," his sharp ears heard some muttering, disgruntled, on the edge of the crowd. "But it seems the Federation is now stuck with the alien monsters."

"I've heard rumors," another said, _sotto voce_ , in a tone typical of one relating something unsavory. But then the voices faded away even as Spock was hustled along to the local watering hole.

He had his fruit juice, trying not to shudder at the appalling audible levels in the place. The party went from a celebration of Spock's verdict to a general end of term celebration. Spock sipped juice and pondered the amazing news that his future was now not derailed after all. And then, mindful of Pike's warnings to stay out of trouble, and seeing he was no longer essential to the revelries, he left while his fellow cadets celebrated on.

xxx

Sometime later, Spock was packing. In spite of nearly four years at the Academy, he didn't have much that he would take to his first real starship assignment as a commissioned officer. And oddly enough, after these years on Terra, most of what he was packing was Vulcan. His lyre. A black coverlet for his bunk – not the irreplaceable lematya embroidered heirloom that covered his bed at home, but a less antique substitute. Amusingly enough, it had been sent to him by his human mother, allegedly to remind him of where he came from. Spock had to wonder at his mother failing to recollect that he didn't need reminders as if he were a human. But at least if the coverlet became… lost… he thought, as he folded its length, gleaming with gold and silver embroidery depicting his clan herald, it would not be missed by some future son of his father who inherited his role.

The last thing he packed was a holograph of his parents, his mother alighting from a starliner's gangway, his father looking up to welcome her. He looked at it for a long moment. He was not the naïve Vulcan schoolboy he had been when he had first left Vulcan. When he had thought he and the lematya were outcasts together. Well, not entirely. He was still perhaps outcast from Vulcan in some ways, most particularly from his father's regard. But he now had another society within which to integrate. And if he was not completely accepted by all, or completely comfortable in it, at least he had a place there, earned by his own legitimate efforts. He might not be a Vulcan. He surely was not human. But he was a Starfleet Officer.

It was, perhaps the first time in his life, he really, truly, belonged somewhere, with no genetic requirements involved. In Starfleet, perhaps, he could make a home.

And if not perhaps a home, at least he had survived.

He sighed and closed his suitcase and looked around the now empty room, ready for another cadet.

Another survival test passed. A new one to begin.

But this time, he would go to the stars.

 _Sic itur ad astra._

 _-fini-_

 _Review, review, review_

 **Survival**

By

Pat Foley

 _Part of the Holo series_

 _November - December 2018_

References:

Latin quotes are from Virgil

Garrison and Tyler were shipmates of Spock's in Pike's Enterprise days. They are also featured in _The Tiger,_ another Holo tale featuring Spock and Pike during Spock's Academy days.

1 Fortune favors the bold - Virgil

2 Fortunate is he whose mind has the power to probe the causes of things and trample underfoot all terrors - Virgil


End file.
